Dreams
by I'm Not Psychotic. I'm Gifted
Summary: Jack's had a long day, and decides to take a nap. [SpotJack slash.] [oneshot]


Disclaimor: Don't own. Don't sue.

A/N: I didn't think there were enough Spot/Jack stories on here, so I uploaded this one. It's an exerpt from a Newsies fic I've been writing, which I might post later on. Hope you like it. Leave a review. Chelsea

It was late into the afternoon, all of the newsies were done selling their papes, and the leader of Brooklyn was visiting. But even though everyone was in the lodging house and playing some card games with Racetrack, Jack had had a long day, and decided to try and cure it with a good nap.

"Sweet dreams, Jackie-boy." said Spot. He nodded to him and climbed up onto his bunk, laying back and resting his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes, and the last thing Jack heard before sleep took him was Mush, asking if anyone was up for a game of strip poker. The cowboy was the escorted to a different plane of the mind, the one only active when he was no longer conscious. Jack found himself within a very barren bedroom. There was a four-poster bed opposite the door, with a window on one side and a desk on the other. The desk had what he guessed would be a very uncomfortable wooden chair. He walked over to the window and looked out, discovering he was in a warehouse in Brooklyn. The sun was making its slow descent to hide beihnd the taller buildings, yet there were still some newsies running about.

He heard the door open and someone step insdie, but didn't look to see who until the door closed. His eyes were met with a pleasing sight: Spot Conlon, infamous leader of the Brooklyn newsies, locking the door behind him. He wasn't wearing his hat, letting his dirty blonde hair cover his piercing blue eyes. Half of the buttons on his shirt were undone, allowing the eyes to see some muscle before hiding the rest. As always, he carried his gold-tipped cane in the loop on his pants, the other holding his sling-shot. Though Jack had a good four inches on him, he had to admit that the younger boy intimidated him.

"So why'd you call the meetin', Spot?" he asked. For a moment, all the shorter boy did was smirk, but after that moment had passed, he made his way over to the window and stood next to the cowboy.

"Jackie-boy, I'm the leader of all of Brooklyn. If anyone's the king of New York, it's me." He then turned his gaze from his territory to Jack. "Now, wit' that said, didja really think I wouldn't notice?" Upon hearing his question, Cowboy was confused.

"Notice what?" He immediatly knew his voice had cracked, and scolded himself for letting it. For some reason, Spot being this close made him... nervous. And when that piercing look rested on him, he could hardly think.

"Don't play stupid, Jack." Spot replied, "I know what you're feelin'."

"Ya... Ya do?"

"Yeah. And I can't really say I blame ya." At that, they both chuckled. "Jus' wanted to letcha know... I feel it too." A silence engulfed them when he finished speaking. It lasted for a good minute or two before Jack broke it.

"So whatcha wanna do about it?" Without saying anything in reply, Spot grabbed the back of his neck and pulled Jack down for a bruising kiss. Though momentarily shocked, the cowboy found himself kissing back, resting his handss on the younger boy's hips. When he felt Spot's tounge tracing his lower lip, Jack complied and opened his mouth, but didn't give much time to explore before they began to battle for dominence. The taller boy's hands moved from Spot's hips and took off his suspenders, forcing him to release his neck for a moment. The Brooklyn newsie moved from Jack's lips, trailing kisses along his jawline and settling on his neck.

As Spot nibbled and sucked on the sensitive flesh, Cowboy slipped his hands underneath his shirt, holding onto his hips once again and rubbing his thumb against the skin. In a flash, Jack found himself pressed against the wall next to the window, Spot having moved him and sneaking a leg between the taller boy's. As he bit down on a particularly sensitive area, he ground his knee into Jack's inner thigh, causing a small moan to be caught in his throat. The cowboy could feel the bulge in his pants growing, and moved his hands from Spot's hips to his rear, squeezing lightly. The experienced, younger boy recognized the plea for more friction and complied, grinding his hips into Jack's.

Then suddenly, Spot ceased his actions, and the taller boy almost whimpered at the loss of heat. He found himself being moved from the wall and shoved onto the bed. He stumbled before landing with his legs wide open. The other boy quickly climbed on top of him and straddled his hips. Spot looked down at Jack and noticed his cheeks were flushed and his breathing had become somewhat heavier. Seeing the desired effect caused him to smirk, which in turn made Jack melt a little more. The younger newsie then began to undo the buttons of the other's shirt, intentionally letting his fingers linger on the waistband of his pants once he reached it. Cowboy was almost squirming beneath him in anticipation. Spot leaned down and continued what he had previously been doing to Jack's neck, staying only for a moment before moving south.

His lips passed over his collarbone, his chest, but stopped upon reacing Jack's six-pack abs. The leader of Brooklyn sat back up for a moment to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way and remove it. When taking in the sight of the Irish boy's creamy skin, the cowboy could feel his pants become a bit too tight for comfort.

Spot was built.

Of course, the staring didn't go unnoticed by the boy, and it made him smirk even more. He then nodded his head as a way to tell Jack to sit up, which he did. Spot took the shirts and tossed them away carelessly. He leaned back down, once again putting his hands on the waistband of the other's pants and picking up where he left off. He traced the abs with feather-light trails of kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin. When Spot reached Jack's hip, he bit down, pleased with the groan he heard. The boy on the bottom looked down and his caramel eyes were met with piercing blue ones.

"Patience, Jackie-boy." Spot's breath was hot against his skin, and it made him raise his hips, screaming without speaking a word that he needed more. The younger boy decided to grant Cowboy's wish and ended the teasing. He positioned himself just a little lower on Jack and sat up. Spot slowly undid the button and zipper holding up the other boy's pants, proceeding to slip his hand beneath the drawers. When he took his index finger and stroked him, the cowboy automatically tried to lift his hips in order to get more. But Spot didn't want this to end too quickly, so he kept using one finger. After a moment or two, the shorter boy took Jack by surprise and wrapped his hand around him and began to pump. (A/N giggle)

Cowboy bucked his hips upward even more, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned. Spot leaned back down and began to nibble and lick at the various uncovered areas of flesh, merely adding to Jack's moaning. After a minute or two more of this, the older boy could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He knew it wouldn't be much longer till he was pushed over. Jack's hips were now going wild, but were being somewhat held down with Spot's free hand. He bit his lower lip to try and supress some of the sounds that were slipping out, regardless. The cowboy felt himself about to climax, and it caused him to cry out,

"On the grounds of Brooklyn!" Jack bolted up to a sitting position and noticed the walls of the lodging house. It also occured to him he was no longer in the bed in the warehouse, and was once again laying in his bunk-bed. Looking around, he saw the "what the hell?" expressions of his fellow newsies, especially that of the leader of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon.

"...What?" he questioned, voicing everyone's thoughts. While looking at them, he noticed there were five of them sitting in a circle (Racetrack, Spot, Blink, Mush, and Skittery), all but Race half-naked. Jack noticed that the Brooklyn newsie was exactly how he was portrayed in the dream: built. He also noticed the painful bulge in his pants that was thankfully hidden by the blanket.

"Weird dream." was his short answer, running his hand through his brown hair.

END.


End file.
